You Belong With Me
by linlawless
Summary: Elizabeth is mad at Jason. How will he gain her forgiveness?


**You Belong With Me**

_A/N: This fic is a belated birthday present for ambs, who I love and adore. She even provided the prompt during a little chat we had. Basically this is AH, set sometime around 2001 or 2002, and it should be pretty self-explanatory. Many thanks to DA/Gem for the beautiful banner. Enjoy!_

_The usual disclaimer applies; the characters are not mine, I'm just playing with them a little._

**Prompt (thanks to godfatherambs): "Romance novel hell"**

Jason opened the door to the penthouse and looked around as he stepped in. "Elizabeth?" he called. "I'm back." He dropped his keys and cell phone on the desk, frowning when the only response he got was silence. He hung up his jacket in the closet, and put his gun away in the lockbox on the shelf. _Is she still angry with me? _He tried to block the next thought, but it crept through anyway.

_Maybe she left._

He thought over their "discussion" that morning. It had started out fine … just a normal day. She had come into the kitchen, just as she had on every other morning for the month they had been living together. She had automatically reached for the hot chocolate he always had ready for her, giving him a groggy smile after she had taken the first sip. That sleepy, beautiful smile was the reason he always made her hot chocolate, even before he made his own coffee. Seeing that smile was one of the unexpected perks of living with her. No matter what else might happen that day, at least he always had that to carry him through – the knowledge that tomorrow morning, he would make her hot chocolate, and she would smile.

Unfortunately, today had gone straight downhill from there, starting as soon as she woke up enough to start a conversation several minutes later. "So, what are we doing tonight?" she asked casually.

Perplexed, he asked, "Tonight?"

Amused, she had said, "Yeah, you know, after the sun goes down, it'll be tonight, and I was wondering what you might have planned."

"Planned?" Jason had the uncomfortable feeling that he had missed something important.

"Don't tell me you _forgot_?" Her smile had disappeared, and his insides clenched as he detected a hint of hurt in her voice.

"I'm sorry," he began, his voice tentative. "I know I'm missing something here, but …"

"You _did _forget!" she accused, sounding near tears. "I can't believe you forgot such an important day. I thought our relationship mattered to you, that _I_ mattered to you, but if that was true, you wouldn't forget our anniversary."

_Anniversary? _Still confused, Jason tried to figure out what anniversary it was. _How can it be an anniversary when we've only been together for six months?_

She was still speaking, however. "And it's not even just an anniversary, Jason! It's also Valentine's Day. How could you forget Valentine's Day? I mean, there are card and candy and flower displays _everywhere _starting like the day after Christmas!" She paused, looking at him expectantly.

He didn't really know what to say. "T-today is Valentine's Day?" He realized how dumb that sounded, but he had a feeling that whatever he said wouldn't really matter very much at this point. "Elizabeth, I'm sorry. You know that holidays aren't very important to me –"

She cut him off, "Yes, but I thought _I _was. Obviously, I was mistaken." She put her mug in the sink and stormed out of the room, leaving Jason wondering what had just happened. How did she get from forgetting a stupid holiday to not caring about her?

He followed her from the room. "Elizabeth, wait! You know what you mean to me."

She didn't turn around, just tossed back over her shoulder as she stalked up the stairs, "I thought I did. I'm going to take a shower. You might as well go to work before I get out, Jason, because I can't even look at you right now."

He stopped in his tracks, absorbing her words like a blow to the gut. After a moment, he forced his feet to move to the closet, where he grabbed his jacket and his gun, and then to the desk for his keys and phone. With one last glance up the stairs, he let himself out of the penthouse, closing the door quietly behind him.

Two hours later, he finally tracked Emily down at PCU, after first climbing in her window at the Quartermaine mansion and then checking Kelly's. He got her class schedule from the Dean's office, after explaining that he was her brother and there was a family emergency (after all, he _was_ family, and if Elizabeth hurt and angry wasn't an emergency, he couldn't imagine what was), and he met her outside of her chemistry class. She looked apprehensive when she caught sight of him, and she said something to the guy she was walking with and hurried over to him. "Jason? What's wrong? What are you doing here?"

"Elizabeth is mad at me," he said abruptly.

She sighed. "What did you do?"

"Apparently, it's some anniversary that I don't know about – how can we have an anniversary when we haven't been dating for a year? And I guess it's Valentine's Day, too, which she reminded me of this morning just before she stormed out of the room."

"Jason, you didn't!" Emily exclaimed, shaking her head. "You forgot _both_ an anniversary _and_ Valentine's Day?"

"How could I forget an anniversary I didn't know I had? What anniversary is it, anyway?" he asked defensively. "And you know holidays don't mean anything to me, so why would I know that Valentine's Day is today?"

"Jason, sometimes you are so clueless," Emily scolded. "Today is the one-month anniversary of the day Elizabeth moved in with you. How can you not know that?"

"Well, obviously I know when she moved in. I just didn't know it was an actual anniversary that I was supposed to do something for."

She didn't respond to that, just added, "And Valentine's Day! You had to know that Valentine's Day would be important to Elizabeth. First of all, she's such a romantic – all those romance novels and chick flicks are her escape whenever things get rough. And second, Valentine's Day is about as rough as it gets for her, Jason. You _do _remember what happened to her four years ago on Valentine's Day, don't you?"

Jason felt sick as he realized what Emily meant. The truth was, thinking about Elizabeth being raped was so intolerable to him that he tried never to let it enter his thoughts. He couldn't stand to see her hurt, not even anything as harmless as a splinter or a paper cut, and although he hadn't been there – had hardly known her, really – every time he thought about what she had gone through, he wanted to either throw up or kill someone. Preferably the lowlife scumbag who had dared to touch her. And preferably, slowly and painfully.

He thought for a minute, then asked, "So what do I do now? How do I make it up to her?"

"I don't know, Jason," Emily said sympathetically. "She's probably really hurt and angry right now, and she's probably questioning your whole relationship," she guessed.

"Yeah, she kinda said that," Jason replied.

"Well, you better come up with something really good to prove that you _do_ care about her," Emily said. "And do it fast, because if you don't, she'll close down and you'll never get her to open up again. She has real trust issues, you know."

"I know," he sighed. "Who wouldn't, with the way her family treats her?" He rubbed his forehead with one hand, then looked back at his sister. "I gotta go." He hugged her and added, "Thanks."

"You're welcome," she replied, giving him an extra squeeze. "And good luck."

Now, several hours later, he stood in the penthouse entryway, panicking at the thought that he might already be too late. _What if she already left?_

Well, then, he would just have to go find her and convince her to come back. He couldn't lose her. That possibility was simply unacceptable.

He turned to go back out and look for her, then paused as he heard a noise from upstairs. "Elizabeth?" he called again.

Still no reply, but this time, he headed up the stairs. Maybe she was here, but just not speaking to him. Which would be bad enough, but not as bad as if she wasn't here at all.

He looked first in their bedroom, but it was empty. Thankfully, though, he could see into the open closet from his position in the doorway, and he felt the knot in his chest and stomach loosen slightly as he saw that her clothes were still right where they belonged. So even if she wasn't here at the moment, at least she hadn't actually moved out.

He heard another noise down the hall, and realized she must be in the room he had converted into her art studio even before he had asked her to move in. He headed that direction, and found the door ajar. Pushing it wider, he saw her, and he sagged against the doorframe with relief at this evidence that she wasn't leaving him, after all. He leaned there, watching her for a long moment before finding his voice. "Elizabeth?" Her name came out in a near-whisper, and she was so engrossed in the canvas in front of her that she must not have heard him. He tried again. "Elizabeth?"

This time her head whipped around to face him. "Jason, I didn't hear you come in!" she exclaimed breathlessly. She glanced at the art deco clock on the opposite wall. "You're home early."

"Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you."

She said, "No, just startled me a little. You could never scare me." She gave him a tentative smile. "I just didn't expect you yet."

He smiled back, feeling more confident that he would win her forgiveness. He didn't answer the implied question of why he was home so early. Instead, he crossed to her, took the brushes from her hand and put them in the sink, then asked, "How soon can you be ready to go?"

"Go where?" she frowned, following him to the sink and rinsing the brushes.

He shook his head. "Uh-uh, it's a surprise."

"Jason," she began, a smile starting to tilt the corners of her mouth, "You have to at least give me a hint. Otherwise, how will I know what to wear?" She put the brushes in the strainer she kept for that purpose and pouted up at him.

He grinned back at her. "Wear leather."

"Leather?" Her whole face suddenly lit up. "We're taking the motorcycle? Do I get to drive?"

"Yes, we are, and no, you don't," he replied, taking her hand and tugging her toward the door. "Now, let's get going before it gets dark."

Two hours later, he pulled the motorcycle to a stop at Vista Pointe. Elizabeth hopped off the back, yanking her helmet off and throwing her arms around him. "Jason, that was the best ride yet! Through Port Charles, along the docks, and then the cliff roads! I didn't know they went that far! And now Vista Pointe! This was the best surprise ever!"

"You aren't cold, are you?" She shook her head. He grinned at her obvious pleasure, grateful for the unseasonably warm weather that had allowed him to plan this for her. With the wind, of course, it wasn't _that _warm, so he was glad he had blocked enough of the wind that she wasn't frozen solid. "That wasn't really the surprise, Elizabeth. That was just the first part." He turned her around gently. "This is the second part." He hoped that Johnny had gotten everything.

She headed toward the picnic table. "Jason, what is all this?"

He glanced at the Hibachi that, as he had instructed, had been pre-lit. He could see the waves of heat radiating off it even from a distance. "Go ahead and open the basket." She did as instructed, and she started laughing as she pulled out its contents: graham crackers, marshmallows, and Hershey bars – in short, everything she would need to make s'mores – along with two thermoses. "What's in these?"

"Hopefully, one is coffee, and the other hot chocolate."

She grinned at him. "Perfect! But you don't like chocolate – aren't you gonna eat anything with your coffee?"

He laughed. "I'll eat some marshmallows, maybe. But coffee is fine if you want to keep them all for yourself," he teased.

For the next two hours, they roasted marshmallows and giggled like children when they burned their tongues on marshmallows. They watched the sun set over Port Charles, which had her wishing she had her art supplies with her. She made him eat a s'more, insisting that _everyone_ loved s'mores and he couldn't possibly be _that _different from your average guy. He had to admit, they did taste a lot better than he had expected.

Finally, she sat down at the picnic table and patted her stomach. "Jason, this was the best surprise ever! I'm stuffed."

"Oh," he said, "then I guess it's time for part three of your surprise."

"There's a part three?"

"Yep."

"What is it?" She was practically glowing with excitement.

"You'll see." He tugged her back toward the motorcycle.

"Shouldn't we clean this up?" she asked.

"Don't worry about it – I've got it covered." He handed her helmet to her and pulled out his phone. When Johnny answered, all he said was, "We're done at Vista Pointe. Is everything else ready?"

Johnny said, "Yep. You're all set." Elizabeth was watching him, as though she would be able to figure out what else was in store for her by osmosis or something.

"Great," he told Johnny. "Thanks. You can take off after you clean up Vista Pointe." He hung up and glanced at her to see if her helmet was secure. "Okay, you ready?"

At her nod, they climbed back on the motorcycle and drove off into the night.

Twenty minutes later, they arrived at the park. She tensed slightly when she realized where they were. He knew that since that awful night four years ago, she didn't like to come here at night, and guessed that was especially true on Valentine's Day. He touched her elbow, and said quietly, "We don't have to stay here if you don't want to. But you know you're safe with me, and I thought … maybe we could make a new memory for you here. One that will make you happy, instead of sad or afraid …"

She thought about that for a few minutes. He said nothing more, just waited while she decided. Either she was ready for this, or she wasn't, and nothing he said either way would change that. Finally she said, "I think I'd like that."

He smiled and said, "Good." He took her hand and led her over near the fountain, then said, "Wait here a second."

"Okay." She smiled, and he was pleased to see that the tension had eased back out of her shoulders. He went over to the fountain and she noticed for the first time that a small boom box had been placed there. He flipped a switch, and she heard the strains of "Isn't It Romantic" start up. He returned to her and held out a hand. "May I have this dance?"

Startled, she said, "But Jason, you hate to dance!"

"But, Elizabeth," he mimicked, "Y_ou_ love to dance." His smile showed his own surprise as he added, "And honestly, I don't mind it so much with you." He took her hand and pulled her close. "Especially if it's slow-dancing." He felt her smile against his chest.

They swayed together slowly until the CD ended, not even pausing when the songs changed. After the last strains of "At Last" died away, she looked up at him. "Jason, this really has been the best night ever." Her voice was a mere whisper as he held her gaze.

"It's not over yet," he said softly.

"There's more?" she breathed. "Jason, you really didn't need to do this much. Where did you get all these ideas, anyway?"

"Well," he said slowly, "This morning when I left …"

She interrupted, "About that, Jason. I'm sorry I got so mad. I know you care about me, and I know that holidays and anniversaries are just days to you, so I know that forgetting about them doesn't say anything at all about your feelings for me." She kissed him. "It's really okay. It was okay as soon as I realized that I wasn't really upset about you at all. It was really just … Valentine's Day has been tough for me the last few years, you know? And I took it out on you, and I'm sorry."

He smiled and kissed her. "Don't apologize. You're allowed to feel whatever you feel, and if you get mad at me, I can take it. As long as you know how much you mean to me."

"I do, Jason, I really do."

"No," he said softly, "I don't think you do. And that's my fault, because I haven't told you. Not really." He paused, and again she jumped in.

"But you _have_, Jason. Maybe not in words, but in so many other ways." He looked at her quizzically, so she continued. "I realized that so many things you do – big things, little things, and everything in between – tell me that I'm important to you. You make me hot chocolate every morning. You call me when you're gonna be late. You make sure I wear my seatbelt in the car and a helmet on your bike. You try to get along with the people that matter to me, even when they do their best to provoke you, and even when they try to convince me to leave you. You turned your spare bedroom into an art studio for me. All of that tells me that I'm important to you, Jason. It doesn't matter that you don't say the words."

He smiled again, then said gently, "Apparently, it does, and not only because not hearing the words leaves room for you to doubt my feelings for you whenever I miss something important to you."

She interrupted a third time, "But you hardly ever miss anything, Jason. Look how you knew exactly what I would want to do tonight, if I could do anything in the world."

"Even so, Elizabeth, even if you know you're important to me, you don't seem to know _how _important you are to me." He paused, and this time she didn't interrupt. After a moment, he led her to a nearby bench and said, "Let's sit down, and let me tell you about my day, okay?"

She looked puzzled, but said, "Okay."

"When I left the penthouse this morning, I went to see Emily. I had to ask her what anniversary it was," he explained sheepishly, looking away. "I really had no idea that anyone would celebrate living together for a month. To me, it feels like we've always been together – in a good way. Like we just … fit. So being together for six months or living together for a month or whatever – it just seems like such a short time compared to how long we _will_ be together. Plus, it's not like it's hard work being with you, so I don't feel like it's a big accomplishment or anything. I just know that being with you is where I belong, and I hope you feel like being with me is where you belong." He paused again. "And the Valentine's Day thing? Well, I think I kind of block that out for two reasons. One is that it's kind of like Christmas – I don't get why a particular day is set aside to tell someone they're special to you, you know?" He glanced at her, and she nodded. He looked down at his hands, noticed they were clenched tightly together, and made a conscious effort to relax them. "The other reason is that I can't stand the thought of you hurting, especially when I can't fix it. And I know this day is tough for you, and I'm sorry I let that get in the way of doing what you needed me to do."

"You didn't, Jason."

"Yeah, I did," he insisted, and when she looked like she was going to protest again, he continued quickly, "So, anyway, when I left this morning, I had this panicky feeling that maybe you _didn't_ really feel like you belonged with me, and I thought, _I need to figure out a way to tell Elizabeth that, so she'll never doubt my feelings for her._ And Emily pointed out that you're kind of a romantic, so I went to the bookstore and looked through some of those romance novels you're always reading, looking for some idea of how to make you understand." He grinned ruefully. "By the way, I don't know how you can read those things, Elizabeth – the ones I looked at were pretty unrealistic." She grinned back at him, and he continued, "Anyway, after a couple of hours, I realized I could never be like one of those guys in the books, and I thought, _Wow, if this is what Elizabeth wants, maybe I'm the wrong guy for her, after all._" Before she could protest, he shook his head and continued, "But then I thought, _Elizabeth knew who I was long before we ever started dating, so maybe she really doesn't want some romantic hero._ And then I suddenly knew what I had to do."

"What? You thought you had to do all this?"

He looked at her before he continued. "No, I knew I had to show you _and tell you _how much you mean to me. So I arranged all this, plus what's still coming. And I wanted to tell you _here,_ because I wish I could fix every awful thing that's ever happened to you. I know I can't, and I know you wouldn't be who you are without your history being what it is, but I at least wanted the –" he swallowed hard and forced himself to say the word "—_rape_ not to be the only important thing in your life that ever happened here. Of course, if you hadn't wanted to stay, I still would have told you, later, at home." He held her gaze, willing her to understand and accept his words. "I love you, Elizabeth. I will always love you, no matter what. I want to be with you forever. Like I said before, I belong with you. Without you, I don't belong anywhere."

She held his gaze for a long moment before she whispered, "Jason, that is the most beautiful, romantic thing anyone could ever say to me. You're way better than any guy in a romance novel, and I love you, too, forever. And I appreciate that you told me all that – I know you don't like to talk that much – but I have to tell you, Jason, I kind of figured it out this afternoon before you got home. That you love me, I mean."

He looked surprised. "How did you know?"

"Well, this morning, I was mad that you left, which was completely unreasonable, since I told you to leave. And you know how when I get mad, I either paint or I read?" He nodded, and she continued, "Well, I tried to paint for a while, but after a couple of hours, I realized I was too agitated, so I was gonna read instead, but I was all out of books, so I went to the bookstore to get some more. And the first thing I saw when I got to the romance section was _you_, sitting there with a stack of romance novels next to you on the floor, muttering to yourself while you were reading. And I thought, _What on earth is Jason doing?_ And that's when I realized, you must really love me a _lot_ if you're purposely sitting in what _had_ to feel like romance novel _hell_ trying to figure out what I want from you." She stood and held out a hand. He took it and stood as she continued, "So, let me help you out with that. I want you to be you, and I want you to love me, and right this minute, I want you to take me home and make love to me all night long. That's all."

"That, I can do." He smiled and led her back to the bike.

When they arrived outside the penthouse, he grinned and said, "I hope you don't mind, part four of your surprise is inside."

"Oh, right, there's a part four," she teased. "You must have really been worried to go to all this trouble."

"Not worried, exactly," he argued, grinning, "More like determined." He opened the door and motioned her ahead of him. She stepped in and looked around. Everything looked just like usual.

She said as much, and he said, "Oh, it's not in _this_ room. It's upstairs." She took off for the stairs, and he called after her, "Master bedroom!" He followed more slowly, enjoying the shriek of delight when she found the last piece of her Valentine's Day/one-month anniversary gift. When he reached the bedroom door, she launched herself into his arms, wrapping her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist as she covered his face with kisses. "Hey, if you don't like it, we can always return it," he teased.

"I love it!" she exclaimed, and kissed him full on the mouth. "I can't believe we're going to Italy! When do we leave?"

"That depends," he answered, kissing her again. "Do you have a passport?"

"Yeah, I got one a couple of years ago when Steven got married in France."

"Great. Then we can leave the day after tomorrow. Now, about that other thing you wanted from me tonight …" He kissed her again, walking toward the bed, where he swept aside the travel book and the open-date plane tickets that had been carefully placed on her pillow by Johnny while they were out. He lowered her gently, following her down, then rolling over so she was on top of him, straddling him. He kept kissing her, long, sweet kisses, in which he could taste the s'mores and hot chocolate she had eaten earlier.

He loved kissing her, felt he could have gone on doing that and nothing more for hours, even though he was already hard and part of him was dying to get inside her. But he was determined to make this about her, so that she would really feel how much he loved her, so he just kept kissing her until she began to move restlessly. She tugged at his shirt, and he sat up, raising his arms briefly so she could remove it completely. He lay back, but she stayed upright long enough to remove her own shirt and bra. She let out a sweet sigh as their bare chests met, and she rubbed against him. He loved the feel of her nipples sliding over his body.

He spent another eternity making love to her lips with his, then finally couldn't resist his need to taste her everywhere. He took his time, nibbling at her earlobe before sliding his tongue down the side of her neck. He nipped at her shoulder, then licked his way down to her breasts, laving first one and then the other with his eager tongue. Soon, she was moaning and whispering encouragement as she rubbed herself against his straining cock through the layers of the clothing that remained on their lower bodies.

After a long time, she stood and shimmied out of her jeans and panties, and he quickly shucked his remaining clothing as well. She rejoined him on the bed, and he ran his fingers over all the skin that was newly exposed to his eyes and hands. She shivered, and he whispered, "Are you cold?"

"N-no," she trembled, "So hot …" She seemed unable to say more than that. Instead of trying to speak, she kissed him deeply again, and he could feel her wetness as she straddled him once more. She sat up suddenly, running her hands over his chest as she began to rub herself against him again. He watched her breasts jiggle ever so slightly as she moved, and he reached up to caress them again. As he did, she suddenly screamed his name as she came. As the tremors subsided, she leaned over to kiss him again, and he moved his hands to her hips and repositioned her so he could slide into her. She closed her eyes at the sensation.

Once inside, he paused to savor the feeling of being deep inside the woman he loved so much. He waited until she opened her eyes and met his gaze. "I love you," he said, and then he began to move, slowly at first, and then with gradually increasing speed. She met him thrust for thrust, and he could feel her reaching for another climax. He whispered again, "I love you," and that sent her over the edge again. He called her name as he followed her into bliss. She collapsed against him. A long time later, as he was drifting off to sleep, she whispered, "I love you, too."

He fell asleep with a smile on his face.


End file.
